Log Date:
	12/14/99

Log Cast:
	Aroree, Wayfound, Rainfire, Calmwind, Jasmael

Log Intro:
	Thanks to the action of several Gliders of Blue Mountain, several
members of the now-destroyed Willowholt have been whisked off to safety and
refuge within Blue Mountain, out of reach of the severe weather that has
swamped over the Willowholt and destroyed it and much of the surrounding
terrain. But half the tribe is still missing -- and so, tempers are still
very thin amongst some of the displaced Wolfriders, even when their rescuers
attempt to make overtures to them...

--------
Southern Hall(#280RJa)
        Sheer elegance of size unfolds before you. The Southern Hall, entrance 
  to Blue Mountain, expands upwards into a dark indigo, slowly falling back 
  down in lighter hues, mauve just overhead and a damp pink at foot. Carved 
  and shaped from the stone, hawks and falcons adorn the walls near the 
  entrance. Stone ivy, tainted with a vibrant green and brown of shaping 
  magic, slowly progresses towards the north, first intermingling with real 
  flora, then disappearing behind what could only be lush vegetation for a 
  cavern. 
        To the west, a staircase forms an octagon as it angles down in a 
  colorful and playful design of color. Although the bottom step shares the 
  same rich blue stone as the floor, each consecutive step shifts hues until 
  the last reaches a deep green, leading into the shadows of an arch. To the 
  southeast, another arch decends into a grotto, night-sky blue pillars 
  shouldering either side. 
        The air is fresh and clean, a breeze blowing through unseen places 
  high above. A rich sweetness of vegetation rolls in through the northern 
  arch. Overhead, shadowy bridges span the eastern and western walls, drawn 
  from the very stone. Although lit well enough to make out the distinct 
  details of the hall, the huge space echoes voices and footsteps several 
  times, contributing to the immenseness of Blue Mountain.
Contents:
Aroree
Rainfire
Summit
Calmwind
Obvious exits:
Stairway <W>  Grotto <SE>  Into the Air <AIR>  Blue Mountain Catacombs <S>  
  Main Hall <N>  

Aroree comes floating down the stairs, only a few feet above them.
Aroree cocks her head to one side, studying the gathering in this hall, 
  attempting to ascertain if it would be rude to say hello, or rude not to.

She has to admit -- this is different from any of the den trees in the Holt. 
  For the past few hours now, young Wayfound has been conducting a methodical 
  inspection of everything in sight in this vast place, investigating the 
  colors and textures of rock, the way sounds carry in the stone chamber in 
  which she and her tribesmates have been housed, the way scents lie 
  differently along stone than along earth or wood... and the way the place 
  seems to hum at the back of her senses, whispering of long-ancient magic, 
  but different than the gentler treeshaping that had created the Old Willow. 
  That had been familiar, the product of her mother's brother. But this... 
  this place, to Wayfound, despite all its intricate beauty, is fell and stark 
  and strange, and even as Aroree comes gliding into the area, the daughter of 
  the Willowholt chieftain might be espied peering at a delicately shaped 
  fresco, her brow crinkled in deep consternation.

Aroree hovers for a moment, then some balance tips and she decides to be 
  sociable. She drifts downward "Different from the forest, but there are 
  advantages to dwelling so, encased in stone."

Rainfire has been, for most of this time, sitting against a wall where nothing 
  can get behind him as he sharpens his arrowheads and keeps watch over his 
  missing chieftess' daughter.

Aroree says "The winter's chill does not strike so firmly this deep, nor the 
  summer's heat."

Aroree's voice drifting down from above, along with Aroree's form, promptly 
  catches Wayfound's attention. She's been more or less uncommunicative to the 
  little huddle of her tribesmates, uneasily certain that most of them won't 
  care to hear the observations she's cataloguing thus far about the Mountain 
  -- and particularly uncertain about this long-gone hunter Rainfire. But now, 
  she lifts an impassive, bizarrely adult gaze to the newcomer, piping up in 
  polite reply, "I am also given to understand that within rock, one 
  encounters far less mud." Especially in seasons where the rain is so heavy 
  it can wipe out a Holt, but the child doesn't bother to elaborate on that. 
  "However, I expect I shall have to conduct further observations before I 
  will be able to satisfactorily conclude which location I prefer."

Aroree reaches the floor, soft white boots touching soundlessly and after a 
  moment they even seem to be supporting her weight.

Aroree
Tall slender and graceful, even though her skin has darkened a shade from long 
  exposure to the daystar, she can only be a glider. Snow white boots 
  unsullied by mundane locomotion, she hovers, caught in the air as if 
  reluctant to touch ground. She wears an elegant costume of glider make, 
  gray, the color of clouds, draping sleeves and sash flowing in silent 
  accompaniment to her movements. She does not meet your gaze, unwilling to 
  share what is written so clearly in her eyes; she is haunted by the memories 
  she sees here, and by a sorrow that runs very deep within her soul.

Wayfound(#10402Pcpg)
This small creature is an elfin child, possibly anywhere between nine and 
  eleven turns of the seasons in age. She is possessed of a fine, tumbled mop 
  of light golden hair only a shade or two darker than her pale skin, through 
  which her pointed ears poke up to display their tapered ends to any who look 
  her way. Her agile young form is reed-thin, but her frame and face have 
  about them a healthy, sturdy look. Enormous eyes of a shade somewhere 
  between amber and the pale green of young leaves dominate that face, and 
  study each and every thing and being in her world with thorough calculation. 
  When she speaks, it is with an adult's words and cadences, and when she 
  sends, an unmistakable intelligence can be felt adding force to her mind's 
  touch.
For the time being, she has clad herself in heavier clothing than is her wont: 
  a jacket of stitched-together scraps of brown and green leather, with a hood 
  and long sleeves and laces to tie in front, has been added to her usual 
  outfit along with a small, sturdy pair of light brown boots. She still 
  wears, however, her tunic of soft doeskin beneath the jacket; the tunic is 
  dyed in a mostly even but subtly dappled shade of golden-brown, with the 
  heads of seven wolves ringing her slender waist. Along with the tunic she 
  sports brown breeches laced up the sides with green thongs, made to resemble 
  the breeches of her mother Rillwhisper.

Aroree smiles just slightly, a brief flicker of light on otherwise somber 
  features "Indeed, far less mud."
Aroree says "Though one does miss the touch of the sun upon skin, the sound of 
  the breeze through treebranches..."

Calmwind wakes up finally, having slept fitfully for most of the day in his 
  little corner of the great room. He comes irrevocably awake at the sound of 
  Wayfound's voice, sitting upright and looking around before he has truly 
  left slumber behind.

Aroree sighs and looks over the storm tossed remnents of Willowholt 
  "Wolfriders are a part of the forest, you will return there again."

Wayfound cocks her head slightly sideways, ambergreen gaze settling upon 
  Aroree and glinting with an intent curiosity. Calmwind can easily find the 
  child, well within visual range as her fathers have bid her remain, 
  conversing with one of the Gliders responsible for helping rescue those 
  stranged by the flood. "It would appear that a great deal of sunlight 
  reaches the chamber where we landed," the youngling remarks. "Moreover, as I 
  am also given to understand that most inhabitants of the Mountain can glide 
  in addition to having access to the great hawks, it would seem logical to 
  conclude--" At the offered reassurance, though, she blinks a time or two, a 
  bit thrown off track by the statement of something that seems blatantly 
  obvious to her. "Well... yes," she concludes.

Calmwind blinks for a moment, staring at the stone over his head. Then he 
  falls forward into a kneeling position, presses his forehead against the 
  floor underneath him curiously, and then rolls to his feet, studying the 
  glider. Then he looks about for the clothingthe Mountain's Lord had said 
  she'd return to them.

Aroree looks down at this odd child quietly for a moment, then rather abruptly 
  bends her knees and kneels upon the ground, now able to speak more on a 
  level with the much shorter elf. "It is called the Aerie... the place of the 
  great birds. Yes, there is sun there. I spend many hours there, myself, 
  sitting in the sunlight. But it is entirely different to watch the world 
  than to be in it."
Aroree says "And few gliders venture out of doors. The Chosen, the Hunters, 
  myself. very few others."

Jasmael enters from the main hall.
Jasmael has arrived.

"Aerie," repeats Wayfound in musing tones. "Ah, thank you. I did not know 
  there was a specifc word for that kind of chamber, although I did observe 
  the nesting places of the hawks." She stands straight and tall as a cub of 
  twelve turns can, pausing as this elegant slender creature kneels before 
  her, listening, and then nodding firmly. "Ah. I was about to ask if there 
  was some situation preventing those who dwell here from simply flying 
  outside if sun or trees were desired. My mother has periodically spoken to 
  me of this place, but information from more than one source is always 
  beneficial for proper conclusions."

Jasmael slips closer from the northern portion of the hall, moving out of the 
  shadows that seperate the two, a smile on her face. ** Heyla. **

Calmwind locates the stack of clothing, along with the Glider wear next to it, 
  and tugs his breeches on before joining Wayfound and Aroree. For the moment, 
  he looks down on the taller Glider, perhaps thinking about his own height. 
  Then he throws himself down on the floor and looks up at both Wayfound and 
  Aroree inquistively.

Rainfire just watches and listens from what he considers the safest vantage 
  point in the room.

Aroree's brow furrows slightly, what strangely formal speech for one so young, 
  she turns slightly at Jasmael's send and inclines her head politely 
  "Greetings"

Wayfound's steady, uncublike regard swings around to mark the arrival of 
  Jasmael, to whom she bobs her head a single time; the noises of Calmwind's 
  rousing, too, divert her attention, and she watches him come over to join 
  her and Aroree. The child doesn't exactly smile, but her eyes lighten a 
  trifle, and she states gruffly, "Greetings, Calmwind. And Jasmael."

Aroree reguards Wayfound once more and relaxes into a more comfortable sitting 
  posture as this explaination may take some time. "Most of the gliders simply 
  do not wish to venture into the world, they see it as dirty, dangerous and 
  unpleasant. It is safe here, comfortable, and all they have known for many 
  very long years. There are those who do wish for the freedom of the untamed 
  skies, they either become Chosen or flee."

Jasmael lingers near one of the walls of the hall, not wishing to interrupt 
  further, though it's with a smile that she looks at the cub.

Calmwind greets Wayfound and Aroree solemnly, "Greetings, Wayfound, Glider." 
  and rests his head on the floor for a moment. Then he shakes his head 
  abruptly and sits up, pulling the tie from his hair and spreading the 
  still-damp locks with his fingers.

The moment the Glider begins to speak again, Wayfound's attention returns to 
  her and stays there, with the same sort of unwavering intensity with which a 
  young wolf might await prey's emergence from a den-hole. A glimmer of what 
  might almost be hunger of a kind kindles across her eyes as she listens. 
  "This would appear," she replies, "to be in keeping with my current 
  understanding of the ways of this tribe. But perhaps you would be kind 
  enough to elaborate upon whether the position of 'Chosen' is one that 
  changes frequently? I would assume that if it does not, and if there are 
  only eight as I have been informed, that it would be a position of great 
  desirability."

Aroree chooses her words very carefully, it is an explaination she's made many 
  times before, but always there is the need to be correct, not to make Blue 
  Mountain sound too evil, nor too good... "If a glider leaves the mountain 
  for any reason without the Lord's permission, it can be quite bad. It is the 
  Lord's duty to protect, and the current Lord sees the best way of protecting 
  her people to be to keep them inside the Mountain."

Jasmael nods in her agreement to what Aroree says. ** Most Gliders aren't 
  capable of dealing with the Outside. They can't survive on their own, since 
  they've never known anything but here. ** A two edged sword, in Jasmael's 
  opinion, by the feel of her send.

Aroree sighs and offers a distracted greeting to Calmwind "Good day, you may 
  call me Aroree." before continuing with the imparting of knowledge "When 
  I... a long time ago the Chosen never changed. there were Eight forever and 
  always the same. It was a desired position, but not one you could aspire to 
  because those who held it were born to it, and no others could become Chosen 
  until they... were no longer."

Rainfire scoops his arrows back into their quiver and slings them over a 
  shoulder, standing smoothly. He approaches quietly and stands behind 
  Wayfound. "Just as long as your lord doesn't start considering us as "her 
  people"."

The child's brows knit together, and those big ambergreen eyes of hers blink; 
  it _does_ seem possible to surprise her, though the signs of it in her 
  strangely adult visage are subtle at best. "I... see," Wayfound answers, 
  peering from Aroree to Jasmael and back again, "although that bears only 
  tangential relevance to my inquiry -- ah." This, as Aroree's further 
  explanation is proferred. "Thank you. It would appear, then, that most 
  Gliders are remarkably fragile."

Calmwind lets his hair drape over his shoulders and rests his chin on one 
  knees, his eyes liquid and thoughtful. He seems as interested in hearing 
  Wayfound's responses as listening to the two Gliders, and offers at an 
  appropriate break, ** I'm part Glider, I think. It's why I'm so tall. ** The 
  send is tinged with a peculiar sort of innocence, as if it's something he's 
  heard but never really connected with anything other than his father and 
  aunt.

Aroree says "The Chosen hunted and protected so that the rest did not need to 
  and could build grand halls, carve or shape statues, brew wine." she shrugs 
  slightly, the finer arts were never a strong suit of hers "Meditate upon the 
  accomplishments of our race."
Aroree frowns slightly "Fragile is a poor word... more unexperienced."
Aroree glances up at Rainfire "She will not call you hers if you do not allow 
  it. And I do recomend that you do not allow Her to control your destiny."

"You have Glider blood down from Zalen," Wayfound supplies helpfully to 
  Calmwind, her attention swinging back around to him. "Although I would 
  theorize that your Underworld and Cat Elf lineages also contribute to your 
  height, for Talek was quite tall, and from what I recall in Mother's 
  send-pictures, so were his mother and father." Then, *swing*, back to 
  Aroree, as she continues without missing a beat, "Ah. Mind you, I do not 
  mean to speak negatively, merely that if the common state of Glider elves is 
  such that they cannot physically bear the outside world, fragility appears 
  to be an appropriate word. Fragility cannot necessarily be corrected. 
  Inexperience, however, can. I would assume that Lord Winnowill does not wish 
  to teach her tribe about how to live in the outside if the need arises?"

Rainfire eyes Aroree with uncertainty and no small amount of mistrust, "Count 
  on it...wolfriders control our *own* destinies."

** Calm, Rainfire, ** Jasmael slips into the conversation, with a slight smile 
  in her expression. ** This wasn't a ploy to bring everyone here so as to 
  'subvert' you or anyone. It is exactly as it was offered; haven. **

Aroree shakes her head slightly, she'd lost track of her train of thought... 
  ah yes, the Chosen. "Since I... that is, recently the Chosen have changed a 
  great deal." she does seem to grow a little sadder when she talks of the 
  Chosen, if that were possible, yet she continues on though as if glad for 
  the pain. "Some of the... fragile, ranks of my people stepped forward, 
  accepted talon whips and learned to fly, hunt and guard. "

Calmwind smiles at Wayfound. ** But I can't fly. ** He's never sounded so 
  cheerful about it as he does now. ** And I do have a wolf-friend. ** He 
  kicks back again, letting his hair spread across the floor as it dries. He 
  seems more relaxed than he has in a while, although there's still the 
  edginess to him-- that liquid pool of calm that he used to be seems to have 
  been drained dry.

Aroree says "Some have fullfilled the post admirably." a sigh "Lord Winnowill, 
  I believe, only wishes her people to be strong if there is absolute need for 
  it."

Rainfire crosses his corded arms over his chest, a closed gesture. He remains 
  silent but, of course, considers most of this so much Glider propaganda.

Wayfound flicks another glance around the faces of the adults, not exactly 
  frowning at the implications and nuances of their exchanges, most assuredly 
  not ignorant of said exchanges, but focused for the time being on this new 
  source of information for her hungry young brain. The lass flicks a small 
  one-sided grin to Calmwind -- seemingly the only elf in the room who can 
  provoke such an expression out of her -- and then says approvingly to 
  Aroree, "Well, then she is thinking logically at least in one respect. If 
  your hunters all become unavailable, to have the rest of the tribe 
  unprepared to feed itself is certain to invite hunger."

Aroree says "Ah, but for so very many years the hunters were always available, 
  always able to adequetly provide. It is hard to remember hunger after so 
  long well fed."

Calmwind asks thoughtfully, his voice tinged with something-- amusement, 
  perhaps-- and his eyes on the ceiling, "Is your lord capable of hunting and 
  so forth to feed herself and her tribe if nobody else is?"

Aroree sighs "Alas I fear, Lord Winnowill is more concerned in controling her 
  people than in their welfare."
Aroree blinks looks at Calmwind and for a moment she almost laughs "Winnowill? 
  Certainly not. She is -not- a hunter"

Jasmael can't resist a chuckle at the image that comes to mind, irreverant 
  that it is.

Rainfire's eyes narrow at Aroree's assessment of Winnowill's priorities.

Aroree sobers quickly, all trace of levity fleeing for lack of nourishment, 
  the glider's soul a dry well for good humor. "Lord Voll once flew with the 
  Chosen, back when the Mountain was young, but Lord Winnowill has never 
  joined the hunt, that I know of."

"Constant availability is a boon," Wayfound agrees, undeterred, "but there 
  always exists the possibility of the unforeseen." She pauses for a beat, her 
  eyes darkening; certainly, no one in Willowholt saw the flood that would 
  destroy their Holt coming, at least not in time to save the tres that were 
  their homes. And as further exchanges happen between the adults, she falls 
  silent, her eyes still glinting, thoughts racing at hunt-speed behind those 
  ambergreen eyes.

Calmwind says liquidly, "So the hunters feed her, too." He considers, "She 
  can't even teach anybody to hunt, even if she's not strong enough herself?" 
  This concept is obviously completely alien to him.

Aroree replys dryly "Winnowill's talents lie in other areas." as polite as can 
  be, can't be insulting Winnowill in her own Mountain, but it is certainly 
  obvious by now that Aroree does not approve of at least some of the glider 
  Lord's actions. "There are Eight Chosen, the odds of something ill befalling 
  all eight before replacements can be trained is slight."

** It's worked for eights upon eights upon eights of turns. who would expect 
  it to not continue working hense, if it's worked for so long? But then, who 
  expected the flood, either? ** Jasmael offers, her expression gone solemn.

"Eight Chosen to feed how many?" pipes the cub.

Calmwind opens his eyes to look at Jasmael. "But it sounded like something had 
  happened to make new Chosen a necessity..."

Aroree says "All the gliders, there are over sixty all together, and in our 
  prime the Chosen could easily feed half again as many."

Wayfound appears to ponder Aroree's new information, firing through 
  calculations in her head of how much prey a single elf can bring down in one 
  day, added to how much prey one of those hawks she saw could carry, to try 
  to figure out exactly how much hunting a given Chosen would have to do each 
  day to keep the tribe fed. "The hawks, I assume, greatly increase the amount 
  of prey a particular hunter can acquire, both because of their size and 
  carrying ability, and because of the range which can be covered in flight..?"

Aroree smiles slightly "Very much so. The hawk can grab large game, while the 
  rider may use thier talon whip for snatching smaller animals and birds. With 
  a net, a bond bird can carry a great many fish. The woods around here abound 
  with game, also the humans have been known to leave small game and eadible 
  plants in offering to us."

_This_ seems to catch Wayfound greatly by surprise. "The... humans... leave 
  you food," she repeats, eyebrows climbing towards her tousled bangs. "How 
  very extraordinary."

Aroree says "On an average hunting trip, I would catch several small animals, 
  ravvits, treewees, game birds, and have one larger kill in the hawk's 
  talons."
Aroree nods "The Hoan g'tay sho... they worship us as gods."

Calmwind sits up and peers closely at Aroree, as if she is making some sort of 
  joke he doesnot understand.

Rainfire interjects, "And how did they develop *that* idea?"

Wayfound blinks over at Calmwind, as if to check whether the older elf is 
  drawing the same conclusion from this astounding piece of information that 
  she is. "How very extraordinary," she repeats, this time more to herself. 
  There goes that glimmer of sharp curiosity in her eyes again. "I really 
  _must_ observe..."

Aroree quirks a slight smile "Through a great deal of hard work on our part. 
  The gliders... cultivated the Hoan g'tay sho, fed upon thier superstitions, 
  showed them our divine favor and they settled about the Mountain and 
  worshiped."
Aroree says "It did not happen overnight."

Calmwind repeats, "Divine favor. Can you show me your divine favor?"

Rainfire's eyebrows rise in distaste, "You purposely keep humans around the 
  mountain?"

Aroree says "Humans have a great capacity for belief, their imaginations are 
  most, unpredictable. I would not be suprised if one could convince a human 
  the sky were green."
Aroree nods "The Hoan g'tay sho are not the warlike humans you find elsewhere, 
  they are most useful. They protect the mountain from other, less savory 
  humans. Several act as servants in this very mountain. They can be quite, 
  amusing."

Calmwind gives Wayfound a look of great doubt and then starts tying his hair 
  back again. When Aroree says some of the humans are in this very mountain, 
  he twitches, looks around as if expecting one to come out of the floor.

Rainfire snorts, "Humans are dangerous and stupid..keeping them around is..."
Rainfire says "There are humans *in the mountain*?"

If there's anything that can distract Wayfound from observing whether Aroree 
  actually _believes_ she is a god, it's the notion that these strange 
  worshipful humans might be _here_. Her gaze flashes in several directions, 
  and her little nose sniffs the air, almost as if she believes she might be 
  able to find some sign of these Tall Ones. When she fails to do so, and 
  Rainfire beats her to the question now hammering at her mind, she fixes a 
  piercing stare upon the Glider. Her face grows even more hungrily curious as 
  she does so, the information -- and the proximity of her drowsing 
  tribesmates -- about the only thing keeping her from bolting off this very 
  minute to investigate.

Aroree can understand the fear, after all, did she not spend time with the sun 
  villagers after humans ravaged that place? "Do not fear, wolfrider. The only 
  humans allowed inside are quite docile, and very much in control of thier 
  keeper."
Aroree says "They are Winnowill's pets. They keep her quarters tidy and 
  occaisonally do other work."

Calmwind looks at Aroree flatly. "And you say no catastrophe could happen to 
  take out all of the Eight." He bounds to his feet, his relaxation of before 
  vanished, and begins to pace.

Rainfire looks at Aroree as if she had just declared the forest purple, 
  "Winnowill is insane...keeping roundears inside as pets is asking for 
  disaster."

Bizarrely enough, now, Wayfound is still silent. But her little face is full 
  of that same vivid curiosity, her gaze half-distracted, directed inward to 
  her own thoughts.

Rainfire holds up a finger to forestall protest, "And don't tell me nothing 
  will ever happen..I just watched my home wash away in a flood that wsn't 
  supposed to happen."

Aroree chuckles lightly "You would not be so upset if you could see them, 
  mostly females, and old ones. nothing to pose a threat."
Aroree says "And absolutely ardent in thier belief that we are, indeed, gods. 
  Would you attack a god?"

"I am not convinced such a thing exists," murmurs Wayfound, but mostly to 
  herself. She's staring off across the room again. Humans... how very 
  intriguing.

Rainfire flicks a glance toward Wayfound. **Don't go getting any ideas, cub. 
  Remember what you've been taught about humans.**

Aroree says "You see the wisdom of this arrangement? The humans are still 
  dangerous, of course, but perfectly safe to us because they have no wish to 
  harm us. They feel the prosperity of thier entire village depends upon our 
  good will. They would sooner kill another human than insult the all powerful 
  spirits."
Aroree shakes her head "You have not delt with humanity's finest, I fear. Not 
  all humans are evil or dangerous."

Wayfound points out, quite logically, "I do not believe, Rainfire, that you 
  have had an opportunity to be informed about my teachings thus far, but I 
  assure you I will keep those teachings in mind. But as I have already 
  commented, information from multiple sources is always to be desired, and 
  direct observation is _most_ effective."

Jasmael breaks the silence she's been holding for some time finally, looking 
  with concern towards Rainfire and Calmwind. ** Aroree, most Wolfriders have 
  known nothing more than humans, roundears, burning Holts, slaughtering 
  elves, attacks... The Mountain is the only place where anything different 
  has ever been seen. You know that. **

Rainfire snorts at Wayfound, "If your mother had anything to say about it, you 
  were taught the same things every other holt cub has been taught for turns 
  and turns past memory...to avoid humans at all cost."

Aroree nods "Yes, of course. and the greatest shame is that our good humans 
  look much the same from a distance as those destroyers." a sigh "Do not 
  approach a human child, unless you are sure of its beliefs reguarding our 
  kind."

Calmwind seems lost in thought and then shakes himself. "It doesn't seem to be 
  the finest example of any race that would kill their own people for another 
  people... especially if they are so gullible. What's fine about that?"

Rainfire shakes his head, "Because it apparently serves Winnowill's ends.."

Aroree says "Ah, but there are humans who would not kill, even for a god."

"Cutter and Olbar the Mountain Tall," is Wayfound's prompt reply to Jasmael's 
  suggestion that the Mountain is the only place where humans have ever been 
  perceived to be anything but hostile. But this is tossed off almost 
  secondhand, for now the child's attention is riveted upon Rainfire. She 
  steps over to him, eyebrows crinkling over her eyes, and replies quite 
  firmly, "I have, most assuredly, been advised to avoid them, and 
  furthermore, I am quite aware that due to my small size and lack of a 
  wolf-friend I am particularly vulnerable in a situation which might result 
  in combat. Since you have not been present in the Willowholt you have not 
  had opportunity to observe me, but I have been most diligent in following 
  Mother's orders. I will not needlessly endanger myself. However, if there 
  are friendly humans, I intend to observe them when it is safe to do so."

Rainfire looks down at Wayfound pointedly, "I intend to return you to your 
  mother when we find her safe and in one piece. I will do that in whatever 
  way I haev to. Keep that in mind along with your curiosity, cub."
Rainfire shifts the quiver on his back and stalks back to his safe vantage 
  point.

The child's features crinkle up more tightly, her hackles rising. "Addressing 
  me in that tone is _not_ necessary," she retorts, a growl beginning to come 
  into her young voice. "Any member of the tribe will be able to inform you 
  that I have _not_ made a habit of--" Then, as the hunter turns and stalks 
  off, Wayfound snaps her mouth shut with enough force to make her teeth snap, 
  fury darkening her face now, an uncharacteristic flush pinkening her pale 
  cheeks.

Calmwind turns and stares at Rainfire, his shoulders hunching forward 
  unhappily. "Her mother will find us. She's a good cub, you know." Then he 
  drops his gaze to the floor.

Aroree says "No need for anger child, he is merely being protective. At times 
  an admirable trait."

Calmwind glances at Aroree. "Will you leave her alone? Please? She already has 
  plenty of people to tell her what do do."

Wayfound's gaze snaps around to Aroree, and with that, as Calmwind speaks up, 
  she doesn't even bother to say anything else. Quite abruptly, the little one 
  pivots around on her heels and stalks away in a different direction, 
  intending to head as far as she can go without getting out of actual sight.

Aroree rocks back on her heels, a needless preparation to rising "That was not 
  my intention, forgive me if I choose words poorly." a sigh and she stands 
  once more, very tall and very regretful.
Aroree says "I have intruded where I have no right to, spoken much but that 
  poorly. I will leave you."

Calmwind scowls at the Glider and continues to shift his weight around. "Do 
  you have music in the Mountain?" His question is abrupt, unfriendly.

Aroree frowns slightly but deigns answer Calmwind's question ere parting. 
  "Yes. Several gliders are musicians. Nareen, for one."
Aroree is in the air once more, so natural that it is hard to remember she 
  ever sat upon the stone ground.

Calmwind takes a deep breath. "What sort of musicians are they? Do you have 
  treeshapers?" There's something desperate bubbling under the surface of his 
  tree-green eyes.

[Even as Calmwind attempts to soothe Aroree with diplomatic conversation,
 Wayfound stalks off to do what for her is an uncharacteristic but nevertheless
 entirely cublike activity: sulk. End log.]